


Shelter

by atenaglory



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenaglory/pseuds/atenaglory
Summary: At the start of the Reaper War, Shepard seems different, and although Garrus notices, he is unsure of how much he can do, given the ambiguity of their relationship. But eventually, he decides to change that.





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mordinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordinette/gifts).



> This is my Holiday Harbinger gift for Mordinette! I will write all about that in the tumblr post.
> 
> I haven't written in much longer than I'd like- my life is in flux at the moment and so I know there's something I need to update and I will do so as soon as I can. (It won't be that soon though, because I'm job hunting, ahaha.)

These days, the battlefield was tense. The comms were quiet. Garrus had noticed it almost immediately after being reunited with Shepard on Menae. Before they had blown up the Collector Base, before Shepard turned herself in to the Alliance, before the six months of silence, and before the Reaper attack, they had been friends on the battlefield. They were fighting, facing death, but they were damn good at it. They never lost, and following Shepard, everyone was certain that they never could.

But now… it seemed to Garrus that _Shepard_ felt like they could lose. Or maybe she felt like they already had, that she should have been able to do more to help the Alliance stop the Reapers from taking Earth. After all, as confident in her skills as her team was, Shepard had to maintain a realistic point of view—if anyone thought they could lose, it would be her. She was possibly the only person who thought that she might, for instance, die by the hands of a random faceless merc, leaving the opposition to the Reapers virtually leaderless and totally uninformed. That possibility likely kept her driven and focused, and made her the leader that her team saw. She had even led them through what had been universally dubbed a “suicide mission” with zero casualties. That was when Garrus had really started to see her as infallible—after his own misadventures as the leader of a team, which had painfully ended in an almost complete wipeout, he fiercely admired Shepard’s execution of the Collector Base mission. And during the battles leading up to the suicide mission, Shepard had joked around with her squad, playfully counting kills and casually commenting on scenery or giving her usual deadpan assessment of whatever hijinks they had found themselves in.

But these days, if Shepard said anything at all it was about the Reapers.

And it wasn’t just how she spoke or how she fought. The first time Shepard came to visit Garrus in the Main Battery once he’d returned to the Normandy, he could tell that she _looked_ different. Wearing her off-duty Alliance fatigues, she’d come straight out of a debriefing with Admiral Hackett and a short meeting with Primarch Victus to visit him. Without her helmet, he could see that her hair was longer now, and slightly mussed as though she had run a hand through it in a gesture of exasperation that had become familiar with during his time with her. Her expression was stony, and took longer than usual to soften up upon seeing him, even though he knew himself to be one of her closest friends. She spoke as much as ever, maybe more, but she sighed more, too. Overall, she just looked tired. It was obvious that she wanted to get back to Earth, and the fact that she wasn’t there fighting weighed on her.

Garrus took note of all of this, but there was something that he needed to address in this first personal conversation since their reunion. They had been apart for six months, and during that time he’d heard nothing whatsoever from her. He’d tried to keep in contact, but it quickly became apparent that her communications were being intercepted. He never got one response. So when they saw each other again, he summoned up the courage to ask how she felt.

“I can’t promise how things will go—especially with this war…”

That wasn’t like her. It was true, of course, and he’d be the first to admit that. He’d seen Palaven burning. He’d fought the Marauders, the _Brutes_. But compared to how she had originally approached the subject with him six months before, this response just wasn’t like her.

And then there was the lingering vagueness of it all. Although their reunion conversation had been overtly flirtatious, and had established that their physical relationship was to continue, there was still no clarity on where they stood emotionally. But, perpetually unable to find the proper time or the nerve to ask, Garrus instead let this question tingle at the back of his mind while he cleaned his weapons and armor at night, or as he ate breakfast. It wasn’t as though it really mattered. Right now, what mattered was defeating the Reapers.

But he would learn quickly that there was more to it than just shooting.

There was the Cerberus problem, the issue of finding shelter for refugees and wounded soldiers from Palaven, gathering resources for the Crucible, advising Palaven command on the Reapers, advising the Primarch himself…. Not to mention the big gun still needed calibrating.

And that was just Garrus’ workload. He knew Shepard was being run ragged. She was the tactician and leader on the battlefield, and the accepter of seemingly nonstop bad news off the battlefield. But she kept driving, focusing solely on the war. After each mission, she would disappear into her cabin for days. When Garrus found himself thinking, terribly enough, that she seemed more like a machine than a person, he decided to go to her cabin to check in with her. It wasn’t something that he could do often, since he could barely get away from his console and the cannon, so he took the opportunity to bring her some coffee as a bonus. At first, when he entered the room it appeared empty, but as he walked toward her bed, he saw her asleep on one of the couches in the corner of the room. She was positively covered in files and datapads, mouth ajar with a half-finished message punched into her omnitool. He set the coffee down, saved her work and shut her omnitool off, and gently lifted her and placed her into her bed. Then he tucked her in, and took one last long glance at her sleeping form before heading back to his own work.

But despite her reclusiveness, more often it ended up being Shepard who visited Garrus. Just as she had done since the days of Saren on the Normandy SR-1, she made the rounds, briefly chatting with everyone on the ship, checking in to make sure they were handling things alright, even if only after big missions. And there was a lot for the crew to handle. Every battle brought a new foe, a new monstrosity created from the Reapers’ corruption. And everyone had to push forward, despite the shock and horror that these battles brought. They had to fight not to give in to despair, because if they did the war was already lost. Shepard made sure that they remembered what they were fighting for, and reassured them that it was possible. That it had to be. And while Garrus, and he suspected Liara, too, asked how Shepard was doing and tried to remind her that she wasn’t alone, it was hard to tell if she was sharing the burden or just putting on a good face for the people she cared about. They couldn’t force her to rest—after all, while she rested the Reapers advanced, but they could let her know that she was loved, and her team was always with her. They trusted her to make the right decisions, and to find a way to defeat the Reapers, and all they could do was hope that their faith in her—that the galaxy’s faith in her—was enough to keep her going.

So Garrus worried. Though Shepard’s resolve was as firm as ever, he heard her let phrases of uncertainty slip more often. She knew that she had to do whatever it took to defeat the Reapers, but he could sense that she wasn’t convinced that giving it her best shot would be enough to stop them. She only spoke like this around her superiors or her friends, though, which was a tactical move more than anything. Shepard and the Normandy were, as Admiral Hackett had described it, the tip of the spear in the war effort. If that tip went blunt, they didn’t have much left, and so it was important for the crew of the Normandy, other soldiers, and civilians, to believe that Commander Shepard was certain about every move she made, and convinced that those fighting had faith that they could win. But what concerned Garrus was not Shepard the soldier and public figure. It was Shepard the person. How long was it before she reached her limit? She had come to Menae after being dismissed by the Council _again_. They refused to help her, but expected her to help them. Every time she completed a task for one diplomat, another one had an ultimatum for her. It was ridiculous just to witness, and Garrus imagined that it had to be wearing down on her. He hoped that she could hang in there.

But at first, it wasn’t anything more than a distant worry that tingled the back of his mind. “I should check in with Shepard,” a passing thought that struck him in the middle of his work, but that he’d brush aside, imagining that she was too busy for him anyway. He often thought that the best way for him to help Shepard was to make sure that her ship’s guns fired with the power, precision, and accuracy needed to take on any enemy, and so he would bury himself deeper into his work. As a team, everyone did their part individually on the ship, they executed rescue missions and extractions, gathered resources while avoiding Reaper detection, and helped who knows how many people.

But as time passed, it became more and more obvious that Shepard was being forced to be a diplomat rather than a soldier. Each time Garrus saw her post-mission, she looked a little more frustrated, a little wearier than the time before. The fighting was one thing, but the politics were another thing entirely. Everyone wanted something before they agreed to help, when one would think that the only motivation needed was the threat of galactic annihilation. The impending end of each of their species was being used as a bargaining chip. Even their own friend Wrex did just that to coerce the Turians into curing the genophage. Perhaps Wrex saw it as forcing the Turians to fix what they had done to his species, but Garrus and the rest of the Normandy team knew that in the end, it was Shepard who would be forced to deal with the situation. Shepard always did seem to get involved in—and ultimately cut a hole right through—problems that were bigger than her. Human civilization barely existed when the genophage was developed and released on Tuchanka, yet it was now Commander Shepard’s job to end it. And end it she would, if it meant that she could get help for Earth.

It was after the discussion between Wrex, Primarch Victus, and the Salarian Dalatrass  Linron, that Shepard had popped into the Main Battery with a look of agitation on her face, said shortly “Suit up, we’re going to Sur’Kesh,” and disappeared again. Garrus did so, and headed to the Cargo Bay. Wrex, Liara, and Shepard waited for him in the shuttle. He hadn’t seen Wrex yet, since it had been all business since he and the Dalatrass had boarded the ship. The two of them and Liara joked and reminisced, and Shepard seemed happier than she had since the war had started. It was almost like old times again. It seemed strange to think that chasing Saren would be the simplest of the missions he helped Shepard with.

It was almost predictable how quickly things went to shit, but Garrus, at Shepard’s back as Cerberus burst in to ruin things, as usual, noticed a spring in her step. He heard the smile in her voice when she responded to the female Krogan’s “This isn’t your problem, Commander. You don’t know me,” with a cheerful “But I’d like to!” Despite being having been ambushed by Cerberus and having to take out waves of them at a time, Shepard was enjoying herself. She’d even taken out a Guardian by shooting through the eye slot in his shield and then smirked at Garrus. She must have been happy to be reunited with her old friends, as she was showing off for the first time in ages. And Garrus was happy to see Mordin, too. His brand of crazy was exactly what they needed right now, and he was sure to be able to cure the genophage. When they finally did make it out of the STG base with the female Krogan, it was thanks to him accompanying her and making sure that the pod that she was in made it through clearance on each floor on the way back up to the landing pad.

So back on the Normandy, when Shepard entered the Main Battery after meetings and debriefings with a grin on her face, Garrus was pleased but not quite surprised. He opened jokingly with, “Shepard, they say Krogan have a thing for guys with scars.”

“So I’ve heard,” was her deadpan response, and her grin grew into a smirk.

“I’ve got a few, myself,” he continued. “Let’s hope no one’s planning an arranged marriage to cement this deal.”

Shepard laughed out loud now, and then took a deep breath before exhaling in satisfaction, and the stress and pain and anxiety from the last few weeks seemed to exit her with the breath. She took a seat on the crate in the corner by the door.

“I’m so glad to see them again, Garrus,” she said.

“Me too,” he answered with a small chuckle. He was even happier to see her relax like this. It seemed like the color had returned to her, like the light was back in her eyes.

And as Mordin worked on the Genophage cure, it was business as usual, taking out Cerberus bases, extracting stranded victims, gathering information, but now even on the battlefield Shepard seemed much more relaxed. Although the grotesque nature of the Reaper forces tended to leave everyone silent, on missions against Cerberus it was back to counting kills, gloating, and the general banter that their teamwork tended to produce. Sometimes he even heard her amusedly murmur, “Killed that one!” mimicking the phrase that Mordin used to shout excitedly back during their days with Cerberus.

She seemed to make more time for socializing on the ship now, too. Usually he would catch a glimpse of her at most, as she put her dishes from breakfast away and headed back up to her cabin or the CIC to work. But lately, he found her taking her time eating with Wrex and Vega, or heading into the Med Bay behind Liara or Javik to talk about the genophage and what curing it would mean. She and everyone else seemed much more animated than usual, having thought-provoking discussions or just making fun of each other. Garrus usually joined in, especially if he had the chance to crack wise on Wrex. The days while Mordin synthesized the cure were idyllic. Or, as close as they could get while on the warship that was leading the resistance against a race of synthetic death gods.

At one point, when Garrus went in to talk to Eve about her work as a shaman, Mordin had pulled him aside.

“Pardon intrusion,” he said in a low voice, “but have to ask—still involved with Commander?”

“Uh…” Garrus had spluttered, completely blindsided by the question.

“Mustn’t forget advice I gave on Turian-human relationships. Caution still advised.”

“Um, thanks Mordin, but there hasn’t been much time for that… this… ah, Mordin?” Garrus watched as Mordin turned and pulled open a cabinet filled with what were likely medical texts, and pulled out a large textbook, which he tossed to Garrus, who exclaimed in surprise as he lunged forward to catch it.

“Gave one to Shepard, as well. Joker, too, although… not sure if it will help his case.”

Garrus snickered and turned to the door, thanking Mordin awkwardly on his way out. As he headed to the Main Battery, he spotted Shepard in the kitchenette. Their eyes met briefly, but she looked down at his hands and a look of exasperation flitted across her face as she recognized the book he was holding. She laughed awkwardly and, before Garrus could say anything, ducked around the corner into Liara’s room. Garrus now looked down at the book in his hands, a “Guide to Interspecies Relationships and Intercourse”, as the cover read, and shook his head as he went back to his work.

But now he could only half-focus. His brief exchange with Mordin had reminded him that he’d been meaning to have a discussion with Shepard. Even with the war and all the uncertainty, with the frustrations of politics and Palaven command hounding him for answers on how to fight the Reapers, even with Cerberus and the Reapers themselves, Garrus still found himself thinking about the commander more than anything else. He cared about her so much, and he wanted to tell her, but with everything that was going on, it just never seemed like the right time. Maybe things were vague between them because she genuinely didn’t want anything serious. Maybe she thought that any serious attachments now would distract her from the fight.

But _he_ was distracted. Not enough to make him slip up, but… just enough that he caught himself watching her a little too long from across the room, or found himself up late mulling over what ifs. So he tried to broach the subject. But there was always something. If he tried to get up early enough to eat breakfast with her, someone else would show up before he could steer the conversation properly. When she came to the Main Battery, he always found himself talking about the Reapers, or commenting on recent events or other crew members. By the time he tried to bring it up, she was gone again. He could fairly easily go up to her cabin and, if she wasn’t that busy, spend a night together. But _talking_ about it was proving to be much more difficult. It was easier to tease her, to flirt without revealing his deeper attachment. In the end, he decided to just enjoy her company and the liveliness that the guests brought to the ship.

But eventually the time came to deliver the cure to Tuchanka. And, as usual, things couldn’t be as simple as they sounded. This time a Reaper was waiting for them at the Shroud, stopping them from dispersing the genophage cure through Tuchanka’s atmosphere. It was a hard mission. They were separated from the rest of the team, who was chased by the _mother of all Thresher Maws_ through the ruins of an old city, and by the end, they had to face a Reaper on foot. But they did it. Well, they got Kalros, the Thresher Maw to do it. They destroyed a Reaper and cured the genophage.

But it didn’t come easy. There was a lot to be thankful for, but it was hard to accept that Mordin Solus was gone.

After the mission, when they’d gotten the Primarch’s assurance that the Turians would come to Earth’s aid, Garrus pulled Shepard aside to check on her.

“You must be exhausted, Shepard,” he’d said. “Mordin dying… it can’t be easy.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” was her sharp response.

That was what he was worried about. Her response actually scared him a little, because it reminded him that the possibility of her dying next was all too real. She was incredible, and had certainly gotten them through impossible things before, but he didn’t want them to push their luck. Not against this enemy. So he assured her that if anything went wrong they would get her immediately, and sent her to bed.

She had just done something _unbelievable_. She’d cured the genophage. He hoped she understood how much that meant. That instead of dwelling on those she couldn’t save, she would focus on those that she had. The people that she’d given hope.

But before there was time for anyone else to relax, the Normandy had an inbound communication from the Salarian Councilor on the Citadel. So Liara went to wake the Commander up.

And on the way to the Citadel, Shepard had slipped into the Main Battery, wearing her hooded N7 jacket and looking perhaps even more tired than when he sent her to bed.

“We lost Mordin, Garrus,” she said quietly.

“You cured the genophage.” He wanted to take her into his arms and just hold her until she understood how much good she had already done, but it had been so long since they’d talked about their relationship. They weren’t _dating_. He held himself back.

“ _We_ cured the genophage,” she said, looking wistfully at the floor.

“Mordin made his sacrifice so that you could finish this.”

Shepard looked up at him with a small smile now. “You’re giving me one of my speeches?”

“I didn’t spend three years fighting with you for nothing.”

And she laughed. Then she said quietly, “Thanks Garrus. I don’t say this enough, but I wouldn’t have anyone else with me now.”

He cursed himself for telling her that he loved her right then.

The Citadel was a disaster. Between the Cerberus coup, Udina’s betrayal, Thane’s injury, and the fact that Shepard nearly had to kill Ashley. It was a complete disaster. Not nearly as harrowing as running through a field of Brutes while avoiding enormous Reaper legs, but emotionally it was surely almost as distressing for Shepard. It was a turning point in the war, as this was when everyone— _everyone_ —realized just how real the war was. Not even people on the Citadel could ignore it any longer. If not even the Citadel was safe from the war, then they really could all be dead tomorrow. And although Garrus had meant to be aware of this from the start, he felt it hit him in his gut as he wandered around the Citadel post-coup, seeing people in shock from what they had witnessed and mourning those lost to the Cerberus attack. If he died out there fighting the Reapers or, spirits forbid, in a firefight with Cerberus, if something happened and the medigel wasn’t enough, what would he regret? Was it more important to him to save face and avoid rejection, or to let his feelings be known?

The answer was obvious.

So, he called her out to the Presidium, and he took her up, all the way up to one of the bridges closest to the top level. The view was breathtaking, everything he’d hoped it would be. And he was thrilled that she was with him now that he had finally gotten a chance to see it. And instead of allowing himself to flirt shamelessly and let it end there, he asked her how she felt. It was awkward—he just couldn’t seem to get the hang of talking about their relationship without being awkward. “A one-Turian kind of woman”? It was terrible. But her response was perfectly serious.

And, completely blindsiding him, she told him she loved him. He thought he was prepared to confront the situation, but that was not a response that he had prepared for. His heart seemed to stop beating in his chest, and as he stammered out his response, eyes locked with hers, he told himself that he would do anything, whatever it took, to make her happy. War or no. He took her in his arms and dipped her into a kiss, copying a move he’d seen in one of the vids. This spot on top of the Presidium might as well be the top of the whole damn galaxy, because that was how he felt in that moment.

And even though he didn’t say that he loved her back (instead he’d gloated over being the better sniper than her even though he was well aware that she’d missed on purpose in their competition), he knew that she understood. That when he told her he had her six, when he brought her coffee and sat in her room where they both did work together in silence, when he called her out of her room to have a drink with him, when he cupped her face in his hand and bent down to lean his forehead against hers, when he told her how he felt about the war and asked if she was doing okay, it all meant that he loved her too.

After their Presidium date, she rarely ever looked weary or sighed heavily like she had been at the start of the war. Garrus noticed that if she did start to look or talk like things were too much to handle, she would stop, and look at him. For a moment, she would just stare at him. Sometimes, she would approach him and silently put her hands on his face, and if it was a particularly hard time, rest her head against his chest. Then she would take a deep breath, and go back to whatever she was doing.

Shepard always had her team at her back, but Garrus was her partner. He had told her at the beginning of the war that they were in this together, and it seemed like finally, now, she truly believed it. And each time she came to him for comfort or stopped by the Main Battery to check on him, each time they added another moment together to their memories, he felt himself fall deeper in love with her, and he knew that no matter what the war brought, he would be by her side. That even if she couldn’t find it anywhere else, he would be her shelter in the storm.


End file.
